“Were you given any instructions by Morris Wingate concerning the congressman and the files?”
“General Wingate told me that Congressman Glass was a traitor who was going to sell the files to a foreign government. He instructed me to go to Lost Lake, retrieve the files, and torture the congressman to death.”
There was a loud reaction in various parts of the spectator section, and Judge Velasco gaveled for silence. Ami continued her questions as soon as silence returned to the courtroom.
“Was murder by torture unusual even in your line of work?”
Rice’s composure cracked for the first time. He licked his lips and looked ill.
“Was torturing someone to death unusual?” Ami repeated.
“Yes,” Rice answered, his voice barely audible.
“Did you follow the General’s orders?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone see you kill Eric Glass?”
Rice looked over at Vanessa. “Miss Kohler was in the house. I didn’t know that she would be there until I saw her. The General hadn’t told me that his daughter had given the files to the congressman.”
“What did you do after you saw Miss Kohler?”
“I panicked. I ran. When I got myself together, I took the files to the General and asked him to explain why Vanessa was at Lost Lake. He told me that Glass had seduced her into stealing the files. He said that she’d told the police that I killed the congressman. Then he told me that he would hide me in North Vietnam by sending me on a mission to save a group of American MIAs who were being held captive. He promised me that he would have a plan in place when I returned to ensure that I would not be arrested. He was going to arrange plastic surgery and a new identity.”
“But that never happened?”
“No,” Rice answered bitterly. “The mission was a trap. I could prove that the Unit existed and so could the rest of the men. He needed us dead to protect himself. All those brave soldiers who would have given their lives for their country…”
Rice stopped. He was trying to maintain his composure, but he was on the verge of tears. He asked for a glass of water. Judge Velasco no longer looked skeptical. There were whispers in the gallery. Ami chanced a glance behind her. The spectators looked subdued and serious.
“How did you survive?” Ami asked, her voice so low that the court reporter had to strain to hear her.
“I escaped.”
“Would you please tell the judge how that happened?”
Carl gathered himself and told Judge Velasco how he was captured and tortured, and how he escaped, survived in the jungle, and made his way back to America. While he was speaking, Carl’s eyes never left the rail of the witness box. When he finished, he was totally spent.
“Why did Miss Kohler break you out of the hospital?” Ami asked when Rice was ready to continue.
“She believed that the General would try to kill me as soon as he learned that I was alive.”
“So she rescued you to save your life?”
“Yes.”
“Were her fears for your safety justified?”
“I believe they were.”
“After you left the hospital, did you murder Dr. George French, a psychiatrist I was using in your case, and his wife?”
“No.”
“Who killed them?”
“General Wingate had his men murder Dr. George French.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because his men tried to murder you also, Mrs. Vergano.”
“And you rescued me?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you think General Wingate murdered Dr. French and tried to kill me?”
“You were the two people who had access to me at the hospital. He was afraid I’d told you about the Unit and his involvement in it so you could use the information as a bargaining chip in plea negotiation.”
“Why did you break into the General’s mansion in California?”
“His men had kidnapped Vanessa. I saw them. I was afraid for her life.”
“So Miss Kohler did not go to her father’s house voluntarily?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
Brendan Kirkpatrick rose slowly and approached the witness. On the way to the stand, the prosecutor handed Ami copies of several documents.
“Your Honor, I’ve just given counsel copies of State’s Exhibits 1, 2, and 3, which I have previously marked. Mrs. Vergano is willing to stipulate, for purposes of this hearing only, that they are Mr. Rice’s army records from his official file. I move their introduction into evidence.”
“You’re willing to stipulate, Mrs. Vergano?” Judge Velasco asked.
“Yes, for this hearing only, Your Honor.”
“Very well. The documents will be admitted.”
“I just have a few questions for you, Mr. Rice,” Kirkpatrick said as he handed the witness copies of the exhibits. “You’ve testified that you were in this so-called secret unit from the early nineteen-seventies until 1985, when you went AWOL?”
“Yes.”
“And you had numerous missions overseas?”
“Yes.”
“Look at your records. After your first combat mission, do they show any more overseas service?”
“No, but these records are false. My missions were never on paper when I was in the Unit.”
“So you have testified. Still, your official records do not support your testimony, do they?”
“No.”
“What was your rank in 1985?”
“I was a captain.”
“But the records list you as a sergeant, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Look at Exhibit 3. That’s the psychiatric evaluation written by Dr. Howard Stienbock.”
“I was never interviewed by this man. This is false.”
“But it does say that you were discharged from the service for pretending to be a captain and the doctor does conclude that you may have been experiencing delusions as a result of the stress you suffered in your only combat mission.”
“It was not my only combat mission. These documents were prepared by General Wingate to cover up my membership in the Unit.”
“I see. They were written as part of the conspiracy against you?”
“They were prepared as part of a cover-up.”
“And you no longer have the records you took from Lost Lake?”
“I gave them to the General.”
“And the men in the Unit are all conveniently dead? Their bodies are in North Vietnam?”
“It wasn’t convenient for them, Mr. Kirkpatrick. They were brave men and they died a hard death.”
“So you say, but you can’t prove your story, can you?”
Rice paused for a moment before shaking his head.
“We need you to speak up for the record, Mr. Rice. Do you have any proof to support your accusations against General Morris Wingate?”
“Other than my word, no,” Rice said, is voice barely above a whisper.
“Then the judge pretty much has to take your word for the existence of this secret unit, your exploits in it, and the falsity of the official army records, doesn’t he?”
Rice stared at the papers he held in his hand and did not answer. Kirkpatrick let the matter drop and introduced a new subject.
“When you and the defendant were in high school, did she ever tell you how she felt about her father?”
“Yes.”
“Would it be fair to say that the defendant hates her father?”
“Yes.”
“Did she ever tell you that she believed that General Wingate murdered her mother?”
“Yes.”
“And was part of the conspiracy to kill President John F. Kennedy?”
There was a gasp in the courtroom and some laughter. Judge Velasco gaveled for order.
“She never told me that she thought her father was involved in the Kennedy assassination.”
“But she does hate her father?”
“Yes.”
“And she would do anything-say anything-to hurt her father, wouldn’t she?”
“Objection,” Ami said. “That question calls for speculation.”
Before the judge could rule, Kirkpatrick said, “I’ll withdraw the question, and I have no further questions for the witness.”